It Happens

Remember that part in Forrest Gump where Tom Hanks is inspired to run across the country in the swanky new shoes that Jenny buys him? He basically gives up shaving, having a permanent addresses, and other stereotypical sensibilities that accompany this american life to run around in a seemingly meaningless fashion and be alone for a little bit. Yeah, he has a group of supporters behind him, but lets face it--Tom's alone. And sometimes, he steps in shit.

For your viewing pleasure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3b3vg9k8Abc

It happens.
But to the complete bewilderment to those around him, Tom keeps running!
(stay with me on this Forrest Gump metaphor for a while. I swear, its going somewhere).

I'm only traveling for eight months (vs running around America for 2 years) but again, the relevance of Forrest Gump to my life is astonishing. In fact, here's a picture of me cleaning poop off my shoes in San Andres! No bueno. I had intended for this to be about more than my "charming" photograph--but there's not really an easy way to ease into certain subjects. I'm kind of trying. I guess I'll just say it. This picture was taken 5 days ago, just 2 blocks away from my hostel and about 10 feet from where my friend and I were robbed at gunpoint.


No one was hurt. Nothing irreplaceable was taken. In fact, I wasn't going to mention it at all, but word travels quickly, and it became pretty clear pretty quickly that the cat was out of the bag--a statement had to be made. I lost some Oreos and a few badly written poems that I'm mildly peeved about, but in complete honesty, the robbery was quite direct. There are four 14-19 year old muchachos cruising around Pisco with a some stale cookies, my filter-water bottle, and a handful of tampons--but I was completely unharmed, and all things considered, extremely okay. I had plenty of support immediately afterwards and filed a police report later that night (huzzah Peruvian police stations). In fact, I even got a few souvenirs! Behold this lovely photographic evidence: my inky-finger--remnants of being fingerprinted at the police station, and also some fried chicken. The hostel owner kindly took care of that meal for us, since neither of us really felt up to scrounging around the city that night for food.

To preemptively side-step some conversations I've had these past few days, I've created a FAQ section for this blogpost.

Q: Were you walking around on a moonless, cold, frigid heartless night?
A: No, it was 5:30pm, and the sun was in full swing.

Q: Were you alone in some sketchy abandoned alleyway?
A: No--I was 10 feet from my hostel, and there was a plaza/market area behind us. In fact, a rather large crowd of people buzzed around the corner in question just seconds after Heather and I made it inside.

Q: Were you waving around expensive valuables, leaving trails of dollars on the floor, or otherwise attracting unwanted attention with your flamboyant wealth?
A: No. I wasn't even carrying a bag--just wearing a coat. My friend had my backpack on (we'd biked through the National Park earlier that day), but other than that, we were empty-handed.

Q: Did you notice anything suspicious before you walked into this situation? Eerie music? Crickets chirping? A personal invitation from muchacho #2 to continue on route in order to make our pre-established 5:30 robbery?
A: No--nothing seemed strange at all. I've never had reason to be afraid of a 14 year old boy--and his three friends were initially out of sight. I hadn't felt unsafe in San Andres before this moment, and didn't walk into an ambush because I thought it sounded like a fun idea. The fact is, it looked like any other street at any other moment.

Q: So when are you coming home?
A: ...

These questions are obviously a little ridiculous. So is victim blaming.

Hearing about an ordeal like this from another part of the world can understandably induce feelings of panic, paralysis, or powerlessness--and I know that most of the time, these questions come from a place of love--but I will not let this incident define my entire experience. Please understand me when I say that I can't come home because of this, and that sometimes, when shit happens, you've really got to just keep running. For every terrible person I've met, I've met hundreds of truly wonderful people--I've seen and done awesome, inspiring, unforgettable things. That is worth something. It's not so easily shrugged aside. Here's a brief look at some of that great stuff that has happened these past 5 days. I hope you can see where I'm coming from when I tell you, with conviction, that I am okay. I am. And that this single experience can't overshadow the rest of the time I've had traveling.

I've eaten delicious food that, if I'm completely honest, was totally out of my comfort zone--especially considering that 2 months ago, I was a vegetarian (save the occasional and guilt-ridden stop at In-N-Out Burger). Here's a picture of cow heart, which is extremely soft and...dissolve-y? Melty? I don't know how to describe it, but you should try it. It's marvelous. I also had some alpaca steak today--but I had just purchased an alpaca scarf, so I felt slightly more guilty (which is ironic, given that Anticuchos is the life-organ of an animal?) I'm not sure how this guilt stuff works, but I'm going to put it aside and just remember how tasty it all was.

I've also been to the Ballestas Islands, off the coast of Paracas. They've been referred to as "the poor man's Galapagos." Having been to the Galapagos a few years ago, I can say pretty assuredly that they're similar--if you replace freaky black iguanas with more sealions! Yay sealions! The water was darker, cooler, and less clear, but the penguins, starfish, and beautiful rock formations were definitely worth the salt-in-your-lungs breeze and mysterious white splatter that appeared on my coat (baby bird guano? Maybe?) Fun fact: a few years ago, shipping bird poop to Europe for fertilizers was one of Peru's largest sources of income. Every six years, they scrape off the stinky stuff and send it off for mucho dinero.

And here's me eating a hairy crab soup--which was tasty. When the hostel owner asked me what I'd had for dinner, I told him it was "sopa con una cangrejo peluda"--literally, "soup with a hairy crab." He found that oddly hysterical. Are crabs usually hairy? I didn't think so. Apparently, the fact that my crab was fuzzy wasn't such an impressive thing as I'd thought. But look--he's waving at you :)

Hi from Peru.

Heather and I also went biking through the Paracas National Reserve. It was...different than we'd expected (read: it was a desert). It was also longer than we'd anticipated. Considering that the day before, we'd walked 9 miles to save 60 cents, I think its safe to say that Heather and I have a track record of underestimating distances. Still, we made sure that the National Park wasn't just something to check off a list--it was an experience! The wind was strong, the sand stretched for miles in any direction, and the mineral beaches were just phenomenal. We even saw 2 vibrant purple jellies! I won't be forgetting this for a while--neither will my butt. That bike seat was awful.. 

Finally, I spent some time in Ica and Huacachina--the oasis of Peru. In the middle of these giant sand dunes is a small, beautiful city. Palms grow in the water and help cool the temperature by several degrees. It was the ideal place to buy fresh strawberry juice, sit in the grass, and just..breathe. The oasis was (originally) natural--but now it's maintained by a white water-tower.You can kind of see it in this picture. Still, whichever way you look at things, Huacachina is lovely. Earlier that day, we'd gone to a wine and pisco vineyard and done quite a bit of Peruvian liquour sampling, so this afternoon was just a drowsy, happy blanket of relaxation--precisely what the backpackers ordered!

We livened things up later that day in sand buggies. GAH. Imagine real life Indiana Jones ride + huge sand dune drops that you race down at outrageous speeds. Thrill factor? I think yes. I also tried sand surfing, which was just ridiculously high. Like, you look over the edge of the dune and basically want to crawl into a hole. No brakes? No helmet? No turning back. But when you reach the bottom of the dune, you know that all that anxiety and nervousness and fret was totally worth the experience (hint)--its just you, the wind whistling past your ears, and thousands of tiny pieces of sand that glide you down the dune faster than you'd believe. Quite fun-- if you like roller coasters without seat belts.

Did I also mention that its beautiful?

I'm not sure what's happening tomorrow, or the day after that--but there's so much potential.
Leaving isn't quite that easy.
I'm not necessarily grateful for the negative things that have happened on this trip--not yet. Maybe not ever. But they have informed the place that I'm at now. They've impacted the way that I walk around Peru.
I like where I am now.
I like where I can go tomorrow.

And, for now at least, I'm sending you my love from Cusco.
<3 ak